Marc Myers writes daily on jazz legends and legendary jazz recordings

December 2010

December 20, 2010

Before he began recording exclusively as leader of a working trio, pianist Bill Evans was a prolific sideman. Between 1954 and 1958, Evans appeared on more than 20 recordings led by other artists. Except for New Jazz Conceptions, his first one-off trio date for Riverside in 1956, Evans was a top keyboard gun for hire in New York. One of those dates in 1957 was accompanying guitarist Joe Puma on an album called Joe Puma: Jazz. Unfortunately, the quartet with Evans recorded just three tracks for Jubilee, most likely to fill out Puma's original studio obligation that used a trio.

The three tracks with Evans were recorded in the summer of 1957, shortly after Evans' work in June on the Brandeis Jazz Festival: Modern Jazz Concert recording, which included a monumental solo on All About Rosie. For the Puma [pictured] date, the guitarist and Evans were joined by Oscar Pettiford on bass and Paul Motian on drums. These recordings offer fascinating combinations at an interesting point in time.

For one, Pettiford [pictured] offers massive support on bass behind Evans, giving us something of a preview of Evans' assertive and engaging style with bassist Scott LaFaro two years later. Evans recorded with Pettiford only two more times—on Sahib Shihab's Jazz Sahib and Helen Merrill's The Nearness of You. For another, we hear the dawn of the Evans-guitar feel that would reach maturation when he recorded with Jim Hall in the 1960s. And lastly, we hear Paul Motian and Evans mid-way through their tight union, which had begun in 1955 with recordings for Jerry Wald.

The three tracks recorded by this Joe Puma Quartet were I Got It Bad (And That Ain't Good), Mother of Earl and Indian Summer. On I Got It Bad, we hear Evans deliver a lush, block-chord solo that foreshadows his pastoral opening to On Green Dolphin Street with the Miles Davis Sextet a year later.

On Mother of Earl, Pettiford takes an extended solo, and we have a chance to hear Evans comp delicately behind him and Puma. On Indian Summer, which feels like a last-minute add-on, Evans takes a bop solo with modal overtones.

These tracks together are a pianistic Polaroid of Evans just before his stylistic emergence with Miles Davis and flowering as a trio leader. It's also an opportunity to hear Evans in his pre-addiction days, when there was a snappy upbeat innocence to his playing, before the financial burdens and melancholy of drug use set in.

JazzWax tracks: The three tracks with Joe Puma and Bill Evans from Joe Puma: Jazz along with the Puma tracks from East Coast Jazz/3 and The Foremost Guitars can be found on The Jazz Guitar of Joe Pumahere. You'll also find the tracks on Bill Evans: The Sideman Yearshere.

JazzWax clip:Here are two of the three tracks—Mother of Earl and I Got It Bad. Dig Evans' Shearing-esque voicings while comping and block-chord solo on the second track...

December 19, 2010

As new JazzWax readers arrive daily, I am receiving a growing number of email questions about the site and how best to navigate its many features. Here are the most recent ones and some helpful answers:

How can I reach you? The fastest way is to click under "Email me" in the upper right-hand corner of the site.

Are you on Twitter and Facebook? Yes. You can follow me at both by typing in "Marc JazzWax Myers."

What is the JazzWax Insider? It's a free monthly e-newsletter supplement that allows me to send you material that didn't fit in my daily JazzWax posts. You can sign up for free by going here. It takes 10 seconds, and the December issue is being emailed out this week.

How can I add a Comment to a post? You can make a comment or see what other readers are adding to the conversation by going to the very bottom of a post and clicking on the blue "Comments" link under the post.

Why do images sometimes cover type? Actually, the problem is occurring on your end. You're most likely experiencing this because you're using Apple's Safari browser to read JazzWax. The platform I use and Safari aren't always compatible. JazzWax works best with Firefox, which can be downloaded for free here.

How are your interview choices made? I tend to interview jazz legends from the '40s and '50s whom I admire for one reason or another. While I would love to interview everyone, I simply cannot based on my time constraints.

Where are additional parts of interviews? At Part 1 of an interview, simply scroll up above the red date at the top of the page. There you'll find a blue link to Part 2. Simply click and you'll be taken there. Subsequent parts appear in the same place.

Where can I find all of your interviews? Scroll down the right-hand side to "JazzWax Interviews" for a complete list.

What's the best way to print a post? Go to the bottom of a post. Look for the word "Permalink" in blue. Click on it. When the page comes up, print out.

Can I search JazzWax? Yes. Just type what you're looking for into the search engine atop the right-hand column. Just be sure that "JazzWax" is checked, not the "Web." This will ensure that you're searching just the JazzWax archive.

Who owns your content? JazzWax™ is a registered U.S. trademark owned by Marc Myers LLC. The posts at this site are copyrighted and may be used or excerpted only by permission.

A big JazzWax thanks to Jon Foley, who has proofed my column each day since the blog's start in 2007. If you find a typo, it's because Jon hasn't turned to the daily post yet on the West Coast.

And thanks to all of my daily JazzWax readers who send along words of encouragement and praise. It's a joy to host what has become the e-equivalent of a wood-paneled, fireplace-roaring den in which readers with like-minded musical interests can drop by for a few minutes of rest and relaxation each day before going about their busy lives.

And finally, Happy Holidays to all of you in the U.S. and abroad!

James Moody radio. Today, "Symphony Sid" Gribetz is hosting a special five-hour memorial broadcast for saxophonist James Moody from 2 to 7 p.m. on WKCR-FM. You can listen from anywhere in the world by going here. [Photo by Herman Leonard/CTSImages.com]

Bill Evans sings. Fellow blogger Doug Ramsey posted this clip last week of a nasal Bill Evans being coaxed to warble a holiday favorite. Interestingly, it's one of the rare instances of Evans dropping his somber, didactic tone and exhibiting a natural sense of humor. As Doug notes, it was taped during a session with Swedish vocalist Monica Zetterlund in 1964...

Jazz Messengers in Japan. Filmmaker Bret Primack alerted me to this clip featuring Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers. Japanese jazz journalist Makoto Gotoh informed me that the clip was filmed in Japan in 1961 and that the messengers were accompanied by the Nobuo Hara Sharps and Flats Big Band.

Dave Brubeck documentary. Many readers have asked me when Turner Classic Movies expects to re-air In His Own Sweet Way, Bruce Ricker's Dave Brubeck documentary. The film's writer Hank O'Neal says it most likely will be re-broadcast on TCM in the spring when it is released on DVD by Warner Home Video. Also, it will be aired on KCET in Los Angeles in late January and possibly other California Public TV Stations.

Bill Evans and Johnny Carson. If you dig Bill Evans, you need to know about Jan Stevens' site here. There's always news about Evans recordings and clips. During my most recent visit, I noticed that Jan is featuring a clip of Bill Evans and Tony Bennett on the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson in the '70s. Go here.

CD discoveries of the week. Piano-saxophone recordings are tough to pull off but pianist Bruce Barth and saxophonist Steve Wilson manage to do so with harmonic aplomb on Home: Live in Columbia Missouri. The challenge that such partnerships typically face is that both instruments want to lead, which can result in a pushy mess. In this case, however, both musicians avoid a two-instrument pile-up by listening carefully and weaving in and out of each other's lines. Tracks like All Through the Night and The Ways of the West exhibit enormous energy and restraint. You'll find Home: Live in Columbia Missouri (We Always Swing Records) at iTunes or here.

Jazz isn't dead—it's simply picking up hitchhikers. One of the finest exponents of jazz's current merger and acquisitions phase is Mojo Mancini, which is both the name of a band and its first album. Maybe this isn't your father's jazz, but it's certainly experimental without becoming esoteric. This album is funky, textured and fun without ever being lightweight or derivative. Dig the space-age Hammond B3 on Gansevoort. Or Just Sit—a mashing of moods from Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds and Twin Peaks. Call the music what you will—this is an exciting electronica-funk bon-bon with a jazz filling. Poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti even makes a cameo. You'll find Mojo Mancini at iTunes or here.

Jazz and hip-hop? In the case of Freedom Suiteby The Beast and Nnenna Freelon, the combination works because it thrashes with new and familiar riffs as well as addictive jazz and house beats. There are electronic shades here of Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Koop and Earth Wind and Fire. I find this music tremendously exciting. It's not quite what you're used to in terms of button-down jazz. But someone thought through this concept in advance and pulled it off. I'd recommend specific tracks but it's best heard from start to finish—as a complete concept. And get this—it's a free download. Go here.

Oddball album cover of the week. Beware of the words jazz and rock followed by "excursion." I have no idea whether this LP is good or not, but the cover is about as wooden as a pine box. Looks like Scott stepped into a photo shoot just as Frankie Laine stepped out. Also, I'm not sure what the sartorial rules were in the Wild West, but a stovepipe hat, pressed jeans and shiny black cowboy boots had to have been akin to white pants after Labor Day. Readers who know this album I'm sure will fill us in on its quality in the Comments section.

December 17, 2010

In addition to being a superb reed and woodwind musician, the late Buddy Collette also was a courageous advocate for civil rights in Los Angeles. Up through the late '40s and early '50s, integration was actively discouraged by the city. Even the musicians' union had two locals—one for whites and another for blacks. By 1950, the jazz scene on Central Avenue had all been shuttered by a police force openly hostile to clubs that catered to black and white patrons and mixed couples.

With the rise of album and movie-soundtrack recordings as well as television, many of the prized and lucrative studio jobs in Los Angeles went to white musicians. The studios claimed they needed trained musicians who could sight-read music perfectly the first time, which made sense. While there were black musicians who could read proficiently, white job contractors preferred to hand studio chairs out to white musicians, even if they were less able or less responsible.

Buddy, was different. In addition to being one of the finest jazz and classical musicians in Hollywood at the time, he was understated, tireless and determined. In short, he was brilliant and admired. In a few short years in the late '40s and early '50s, he broke the color barrier in the studios and was the first black musician hired to play in a West Coast TV studio orchestra. He also helped unite the union locals in 1953.

Here's Buddy on life in Hollywood as a black musician, from the book Central Avenue Sounds: Jazz in Los Angeles:

"Jerry Fielding [pictured] was in the audience one night [in the late '40s] when I took a flute solo during a rehearsal of Bizet's Carmen with the Community Symphony Orchestra. After he learned I could play clarinet and saxophone, he hired me on the spot for Groucho Marx's TV show, You Bet Your Life.

"The first time I played the TV show, I wasn't nervous or anything. I just knew that it was something I had been working for and looking forward to, not just musically. Even meeting the guys and sitting with them. Some of the guys like Milt Kestenbaum and Seymour Sheklow were part of the Community Symphony, and that made it great.

"When I saw Groucho the first time, he looked glad. He said, 'Wow, we got a new guy in the band!' And he starts screaming, 'Hey, how are you doing?' It got to be a good thing. And most of the stuff didn't bother me. It was hard, though. I was like a fighter in top shape: I was ready for a challenge. And I knew everything was based on me doing a great job. I couldn't let down. Everything we had been doing over the two years or so was based on me or somebody getting an opportunity and pulling it off. I always thought this was kind of a little bit like how Jackie Robinson felt.

"During breaks, we'd all go to dinner, five or six of the band guys. We'd go to restaurants that I could never go to alone, but they accepted it somehow. Then, later on, sometimes I'd come there with someone else, and especially if it was someone white, just the two of us, then you'd get the 'You can't do this' treatment.

"Sometimes we used to go to Nickodell's on Melrose right behind NBC in Hollywood. A very classy place. Once I went in with this white lady, Nan Evert, who was a good friend of mine. I had gone with my players in the band, but not on my own. I was kind of afraid to go in, but she said, "Oh, Nickodell's. Great!" She had no idea.

"We go to the door and the maitre d' just about lost his teeth. I said, 'Two,' because I was trying to just outdo him. Stammering, he points to the back of the room. As we walked though this crowded restaurant, the audience reacted. They couldn't believe this. Spoons fell off the table, and it got so noisy for a while, I really got frightened. And he put us in a place in the back where everyone could see us. It was good they had big menus. The noises lasted throughout dinner."

December 16, 2010

Rock, pop and disco tracks of the '60s, '70s and '80s were routinely peppered by horns. The saxophone, in particular, was most often added to give a slick track an earthy authenticity. In many cases, the sax solo would be written into the song's break halfway through to provide a funky feel. Or it would come at the end, to pick up where the vocal left off. [Pictured: Roger Ball of Average White Band]

Here are eight pop saxophone solos that come to mind. Have others? Please add them to the Comments section:

December 15, 2010

For the November 1960 issue of Playboy, the magazine assembled a panel of musicians to discuss drug addiction in the jazz world and the public's perception of jazz as a result. The topic was a hot one back then, coming off the 1950s. And yet in historical perspective, the topic's urgency seems somewhat ludicrous. Within seven years, drugs would become an integral part of the rock and youth culture, resulting in psychedelic album covers, masses of stoned concertgoers and rock-star overdoses.

But in 1960, jazz and drug use were virtually synonymous, thanks in some measure to Hollywood's portrayal of jazz musicians as scatterbrained psychotics and corrupting influences. One assumes that Playboy, the sponsor of the first indoor jazz festival in 1959, was hoping to show readers (and potential concert-goers) that not all jazz musicians were bad eggs, particularly the ones they hoped to feature on stage.

The roundtable discussion was moderated by Max Cohen, an attorney and legal expert on narcotics addiction, and someone named Dr. Winick, director of Research of the Narcotics Addiction Research Project. The panelists were Cannonball Adderley, Nat Adderley, Dizzy Gillespie, Stan Kenton, Duke Ellington, Billy Taylor, Shelly Manne, Jimmy Giuffre and Nat Hentoff.

Here's the opening paragraph followed by a link to the full discussion...

PLAYBOY: Our purpose, gentlemen, in this first Playboy Panel, is to discuss narcotics addiction and the jazz musician. We might put it another way: to what extent is addiction a special problem of the jazzman? How common is the use of narcotics among musicians, and to what degree is the public attitude a reflection of the facts. We aren't in search of dogmatic conclusions: rather, we'd like to stimulate thought, to ventilate the subject and let in the light of knowledge and experience—which you men have.

Stan Kenton, you have not only been in the very forefront of advanced big-band jazz since the early Forties, you've also been a long-time, articulate spokesman for jazzmen. Why don't you lead off? There are an estimated 60,000 drug addicts in this country: how common is narcotics addiction in the jazz field?

December 14, 2010

Every year at this time I choose a favorite jazz Christmas album to share with you. My annual selection has nothing to do with new releases or hot new artists. My criterion simply is beauty, which isn't so easy, since a great Christmas album is hard to find. For me, most tend to be too solemn or sticky sweet. Just right is a fine line in this genre. To make the cut, a holiday jazz album needs to be uplifting and sentimental, but not dreary or noisy. I know, I know—picky, picky. My evergreen selection this year is Eddie Higgins' Christmas Songs.

Recorded in 2004, the album features pianist Higgins [pictured] with bassist Jay Leonhart and drummer Joe Ascione. What I love about Christmas Songs is the drifting-feather quality of Higgins' piano playing, not to mention the perfect song list. All the chestnuts are here, and Higgins roasts each one with jolly grace.

Higgins, who died in 2009, was one of those rare jazz pianists who knew exactly where the best chord voicings were hidden on the keyboard. He also knew how to cover the entire ivory landscape without pounding or over-indulging. As you listen to him play (on all of his albums, in fact), you can almost hear song lyrics dancing around in his head.

On Christmas Songs, Higgins delivers a top-hat-and-tails holiday card with just a peck of jazz mischief and a pinch of frosty nostalgia.

In case you missed my Christmas pick from 2009 and 2008...

June Christy—This Time of Year (1961). This is an unusual holiday album that grows on you fast. The tunes have intricate melodies and restless lyrics, but the real star here is Pete Rugolo, whose arrangements adhere to a jazz feel without selling out. And all the while, the charts frame Christy's hip, dry-vermouth vocal sound perfectly. It's tough not to love an album with a cover featuring Christy in red stretch ski pants and a waist-length shearling jacket poised to hurl a snowball.

Jo Stafford—Happy Holidays: I Love the Winter Weather (1955-56). Much of this CD has been culled from Stafford's Happy Holiday (1955) and Ski Trails (1956), both released by Columbia. Each track on this CD collection is a work of art, with Stafford's inimitable warm, maternal singing style backed by the handsome, clarinet-high orchestrations of husband Paul Weston.

JazzWax tracks: You'll find the Eddie Higgins Trio's Christmas Songs (Venus) at iTunes or here. The trio recorded a second holiday album in 2006 called Christmas Songs 2. It's here.

June Christy's This Time of Year is hereand Jo Stafford's Happy Holidays is here.

JazzWax notes: The covers of both Eddie Higgins' albums were painted by jazz singer Meredith d'Ambrosio, Higgins' wife. My 2009 interview with Meredith can be found here. My remembrance of Higgins is here.

JazzWax clip:Here's the Eddie Higgins Trio playing The Christmas Song...

December 13, 2010

By now, you probably know that bassist Scott LaFaro was a member of the Bill Evans Trio from 1959 to 1961 and that he died in an auto accident in July 1961. But before LaFaro's association with Evans, he was a working musician in New York and then in Los Angeles. Just before his trip West in 1957, La Faro recorded his first trio album—This Is Pat Moran (Audio Fidelity)—with Moran on piano and Gene Gammage on drums. The album also was issued as The Legendary Scott LaFaro by the label in 1958, one assumes to capitalize on both fan bases.

As Moran's playing demonstrates on this album, she had a graceful, assertive style and a keen, bebop sensibility in '57. In addition to recording This Is Pat Moran, the trio recorded Beverly Kelly Sings with the Pat Moran Trio at around the same time.

Who is Pat Moran? Born Helen Mudgett in 1934 in Enid, Okla., Moran studied piano at Phillips University in her home town and then at the Cincinnati Conservatory of Music. She started as a concert pianist but switched to jazz, forming a quartet. She also recorded with Mel Torme, Oscar Pettiford and Terry Gibbs. That's where the in-print trail goes cold. [Photo of Pat Moran by Ray Avery/CTSImages.com]

But after a little web research yesterday, it appears Moran is still performing and recording. Here are the liner notes from The Gospel Truth (2000) by pianist Patti Moran McCoy, which is how Moran is known professionally today:

"My career started when I was studying piano at the Cincinnati Conservatory. I used to go downstairs and play the piano in the parlor in the evenings. Some of the students suggested I get a manager and play professionally.

"One evening a man who was the booking agent for Doris Day [pictured] said he could book me in a piano bar in downtown Cincinnati. I would have to change my name from Helen Mudgett to a more 'show business' type name. So I became Pat Moran—the name of a cellist at the school I admired.

"One thing led to another and I quit school. I started playing small bars, but I wasn't very good at it. The owners mostly wanted me there to attract men, I suppose. I had been listening to bebop, and I spent most of my time teaching myself to play it. Therefore, I got fired quite frequently!

"Finally I hooked up with a girl singer from the Conservatory, Bev Kelly. We headed for Chicago, signed with a big booking agency, added a bass player and drummer and started singing four-way vocals. We started working at a black club on the street level of a hotel on the South Side.

"We lived in the hotel and played the club for six months. During that time we recorded several albums. We sang with Mel Torme and Duke Ellington's band on Porgy and Bess (along with a cast of other great singers and musicians). My quartet played all the hottest jazz spots in America, including Birdland in New York and the Blue Note in Chicago—before the agency decided I should just have a trio.

"I met bassist Scotty LaFaro at a jazz club in St. Louis. LaFaro was playing with Chet Baker at the time. It was their last night there, and we were opening the next night. I remember that the night after closing, we were all standing around talking, and some girl asked Chet to sing for her.

"Chet started singing Look for the Silver Lining. It was pretty funny. Chet was missing a front tooth, but he was still a good-looking guy! Scotty and I became great friends.

"I've been thinking about my life as a young jazz musician. I guess the highlight of my career was when I played at the Hickory House in New York City. We were taped live from the club twice a week. It was pretty amazing to be playing to an audience consisting of many jazz greats like Miles Davis, Gil Evans, Erroll Garner, Cannonball Adderley (he always called me 'Miss Moran'}—and anyone who was anybody was playing in the city at that time.

"After retiring from the road back in the early '60s, I wrote and recorded a children's album, Shakin' Loose with Mother Goose, with Steve Allen and Jayne Meadows (it won the National Book Award), I recorded several CDs, and I have been on National Public Radio with Marian McPartland."

Back in 1957, Moran was a terrific jazz pianist, and with this recording, we're able to hear LaFaro's engaging brilliance in a trio format two years before he joined Evans and Paul Motian.

JazzWax tracks: This Is Pat Moran has been issued on CD and as a download. If you opt for the download, go here. (You'll find it has been stupidly labeled "explicit" at Amazon. Perhaps they meant "exquisite.")

If you want the CD, Fresh Sound has combined This Is Pat Moran and Beverly Kelly Sings with the Pat Moran Trio. It's here.

The Pat Moran Quartet (1956), with Moran on piano, John Doling on bass, John Whited on drums and Beverly Kelly—all singing four-part harmony while they played—can be found here.

December 12, 2010

James Moody, a bebop pioneer and seductive improviser whose mischievous sense of humor masked a highly serious and industrious saxophonist, flutist, composer and arranger, died Thursday in San Diego. He was 85. [Photo of James Moody at the 2007 Monterey Jazz Festival by Paul Slaughter]

Moody embodied the entire history of post-war jazz, beginning with his earliest recording in June 1946 as a member of Dizzy Gillespie's big band at New York's Spotlite Club. But Moody's initial audition for the band didn't go well. According to Ira Gitler's liner notes for Dizzy Gillespie Big Band: Show Time at the Spotlite, Gillespie arranger Gil Fuller rejected the saxophonist, telling him: "Whenever you get it together, come back and you'll get the job. You can come back but you got to develop yourself some lungs and a stronger tone, and then you can play."

When Moody returned in June 1946, he was given a chair in Gillespie's band—the first of many sturdy bounce-backs over the course of his career. In 1948, Moody began to show his pronounced tongue-in-cheek touch, naming his first recording as a leader The Fuller Bop Man—either as a gentle elbow to the arranger, a play on the brush company, or both.

What set Moody apart from the crowd of exceptional saxophonists in the late 1940s was his fluid swing, voluptuous tone and crafty lyricism. A solo by Moody typically was seamless, sophisticated and staggeringly melodic.

On several occasions, his improvised solos on standards wound up prettier and hipper than the original melody lines. Most notable among these was I'm in the Mood for Love, recorded in October 1949 in Sweden. His weaving, improvised line was so natural and shrewd that it eclipsed the song's original, resulting in a new jazz standard called Moody's Mood for Love. Lyrics were added by Eddie Jefferson and recorded by King Pleasure.

Moody returned to the U.S. in the fall of 1951, launching a post-bop career that embraced elements of rhythm & blues. By the mid-50s, with the advent of the 12-inch LP, Moody began recording a series of successful albums for Argo, including Flute 'N' the Blues and, one of his finest albums, Last Train from Overbrook. Moody recorded the album following a six-month stay at the Overbrook Hospital in Cedar Grove, N.J., after a fire destroyed his band's music and instruments.

Though Moody recorded often from the '60s onward (he appeared on 267 sessions), he remained a staunch advocate of bebop. As an early developer of the '40s movement, Moody was a direct link to the genre's hip style, playful sense of humor and passion for intellectual curiosity. On stage, Moody could maneuver effortlessly between bop standards such as Good Bait to American Songbook ballads like Polka Dots and Moonbeams. Most of his appeal came from a lush romanticism and sensitivity found lacking in many of his bop contemporaries, who tended to focus more on speed and one-upmanship. [Photo, from left, of James Moody, Sonny Stitt and Dizzy Gillespie at the Hollywood Bowl in 1975 by Paul Slaughter]

In later years, Moody took pride in displaying a puckish stage persona. But for those who knew him well, that playfulness was something of a ruse, and a dangerous decoy at that. Woe unto the musicians who misjudged Moody's whimsical nature and failed to bring their A-game. Moody had no patience for anything less than complete depth and devotion to the music. [Photo of James Moody and wife Linda in 2007 by Paul Slaughter]

I regret not being more aggressive about reaching out to interview Moody. His busy performing schedule didn't allow for much time for phoners or sit-downs. But I did have an occasion back in 1997 to visit with him in the green room at the Blue Note in New York with my young daughter in tow. Moody and his wife Linda showered her with attention, and to this day my daughter still talks of that night. Before departing, we all posed for a photo (along with Gil Goldstein), which was snapped by Linda.

Moody was a gentle giant—always leaving audiences and fellow jazz legends awe-struck by his abilities. But Moody also was much more complex a musician than most people realized. To fully understand the brilliance of his choices and appeal, you have to listen to the same track repeatedly to catch the speed of his mind and beauty of what emerged. Moody was passionate and exceptional.

Here are my favorite 10 James Moody tracks, ordered by date:

Out of Nowhere (with the Swedish Crowns, 1949)

I'm in the Mood for Love (1949)

Again (1951)

Cherokee (with strings, 1951)

Disappointed (1955)

Yvonne (Last Train From Overbrook, 1958)

Workshop (with vocalist Eddie Jefferson, 1959)

Stablemates (At the Jazz Workshop, 1961)

I Cover the Waterfront (Flute 'n' the Blues, with Eddie Jefferson, 1961)

East of the Sun (4A, 2009)

JazzWax clips:Here's James Moody in 1963, as a member of he Dizzy Gillespie Quintet...

December 10, 2010

In the late '60s and '70s, Don Sebesky was one of the most in-demand jazz arrangers in the record business. His close working relationship with Creed Taylor and CTI Records resulted in 45 albums. Among them were George Benson's White Rabbit, Kenny Burrell's God Bless the Child and Stanley Turrentine's The Sugar Man.

Don also was one of the first arrangers to convincingly combine jazz and rock for orchestration, playing a strong role in shaping the adult- contemporary genre of the late '60s and '70s. Albums such as The Distant Galaxy and Jazz-Rock Syndrome from 1968 are little known today but remain fascinating early experiments. By the way, today is Don's birthday. He's 73.

In Part 2 of my two-part interview with Don, the prolific jazz-rock arranger talks about Wes Montgomery's A Day in the Life, George Benson's White Rabbit, Buddy Rich, Paul Desmond and his own Giant Box:

JazzWax: How did you come to arrange Wes Montgomery’s A Day in the Life in 1967?Don Sebesky: Producer Creed Taylor called and asked me to come in and listen to a new album he had just received. When I arrived, he put on A Day in the Life from the Beatles' Sergeant Pepper’s. As we listened, Creed was very excited and asked if we could turn it into something for Wes.

JW: What did you say?DS: Definitely. It wasn’t that difficult. Wes’ approach on the guitar fit the percussive nature of the song perfectly. His octave playing style was a natural fit. Wes was amenable to Creed’s desire to expand his audience.

JW: What happened when the album came out in 1967? It was the first to adapt a late-period Beatles composition. DS: More jazz musicians and arrangers gave rock a harder listen after the album came out. Cross-pollination began in earnest between jazz musicians and pop music. Many great jazz musicians like Stan Getz and Herbie Hancock crossed over. Everyone wanted to take advantage of the Beatles’ material, since doing so would likely bring a wider audience and longer staying power.

JW: Looking back, what was the impact of this crossover phase?DS: I think many jazz musicians lost track of their roots. The rock-pop trend was a wave that swept through the jazz world. It was an experiment. The bossa nova was probably the demarcation line—where jazz-pop ended and jazz-rock began—since the Brazilian form was so musical.

JW: Tell me about George Benson’s White Rabbit in 1971?DS: I had been listening to Jefferson Airplane’s Surrealistic Pillow, which was released in 1967. I, too, of course, went through a pop-rock phase. It was an amazing time. Many rock bands back then, like Airplane, were made up of serious musicians, and the writing was interesting. So was the playing. For example, The Mamas & the Papas also were great. They had a special joie de vivre that they incorporated into their records with great success. Jazz hoped to tap into the feel.

JW: Did you play Surrealistic Pillow for Creed?DS: Yes. I suggested we do White Rabbit in a Spanish mode. He agreed. George Benson doesn’t read music. He just heard the song and automatically fell into the groove. It shows you that music doesn’t exist on the page, only in the air [laughs].

JW: Speaking of The Mamas & the Papas, you composed and arranged Buddy Rich’s Big Mama Cass as well as Preach and Teach.DS: I got a call from Dick Bock of Pacific Jazz. He was Buddy’s producer at the time. He wanted me to write arrangements for the band. Rich was always on the road, so I’d just send in the charts and the band would record them.

JW: Did you ever meet Rich?DS: One day I told Dick that I wanted to meet him. So I went down to a club in New York where Buddy was playing. I told someone to let Buddy know I was there. But he never came out from his dressing room nor did he respond. As a result, I never met him nor did I ever speak to him. But he kept recording my stuff. He even sent me a joke track of Mama Cass with all the wrong notes being played, as though the copying had come out wrong [laughs].

JW: Paul Desmond’s Bridge Over Troubled Water in 1969?DS: I arranged and produced that one. Creed had already left A&M to form CTI as a stand-alone label. Paul Desmond had owed A&M one last album and this was it. The concept for this album came up through a go-between. Paul Desmond and Simon & Garfunkel had the same agent—Mort Lewis. Paul Desmond didn’t really get fully into the material. The resulting album wasn’t bad but Paul was a bit awkward on there. He wasn’t of a mind to go down the crossover road, and you can hear it.

JW: How do you feel about your Giant Box album for CTI in 1973?DS: I have mixed feelings about it. Firebird was a good track, particularly with the crossover between Stravinsky and the John McLaughlin sound. But I wasn’t entirely happy with everything on the album. It didn’t feel as organic to my way of thinking as other albums. By the time I arranged it, I was already heading in another direction. In my heart, I’m a big-band guy. I would have preferred to have done a straight-ahead big band album. But it wasn’t considered sell-able at the time. You have to remember that jazz-rock fusion was everywhere in 1973 and poised to grow even bigger through the '70s.

JW: Do you ever listen to Giant Box?DS: No. I don’t like listening to things I’ve done. I hear too many things I wished I hadn’t done. It makes me feel as though I dropped the ball. I prefer looking forward.

JW:I Remember Bill: A Tribute to Bill Evans in 1997?DS: I sat with that music for three years until I felt encouraged enough to put it on paper. Bill’s music was so utterly musical, which made it hard for me to commit to anything in terms of original compositions. We won a Grammy for my arrangement of Waltz for Debby on there.

JW: Did you ever play with Evans?DS: Yes. I played one studio session with him. It was a jingle for an Esso TV ad, before the oil company became known as Exxon. Bill Russo wrote the arrangement and Bill played piano. It was in ‘60 or ‘61.

JW: What’s your favorite Don Sebesky album?DS: Probably Joyful Noise: A Tribute to Duke Ellington in 1999. I think it was my most fully realized work from a jazz, big band standpoint. There is a strong cohesiveness and unity on there from track to track. I was at the top of my game. The album won two Grammys.

JW: What’s coming?DS: I’m due to record another album with guitarist Earl Klugh and another with guitarist John Pizzarelli. Every time John plays it’s like a party.

JW: Any other projects?DS: Actually, I just started to compose and arrange a new album. It's going to be called Credo. It will be a combination of jazz and classical elements with a contemporary feel. I've even commissioned a philosopher-poet to write a rap for one of the tracks that's different from anything else out there. The person who will sing it is very famous on Broadway, but I can't tell you yet who it is because the contracts haven't been signed. It's all a new beginning for me.

Here's a track from The Distant Galaxy (1968), one of Don's most fascinating jazz-psychedelic experiments for Verve and a precursor to his CTI work. In addition to a large orchestra, the album included Marvin Stamm (tp,pic), Larry Coryell (el-sitar), Chuck Rainey (el-b), Hubert Laws (sop-1,fl-2) Warren Bernhardt (clavinet-2), Dick Hyman (p), Ronnie Zito (d) and Lois Winter (vcl)...

December 09, 2010

Arranger Don Sebesky is among only a handful of musicians today who toured and recorded with both Stan Kenton and Maynard Ferguson's big bands at the tail end of the '50s. Don also arranged Wes Montgomery's most popular recordings for Verve and A&M in the '60s, and in the '70s arranged and conducted many of CTI's best-known releases.

Don's signature touch is orchestral with surging power but also highly supportive of the soloist. Back in the '60s, Don was as familiar with the rock and pop genres as he was with jazz. This knowledge allowed him to arrange radio hits neatly for jazz stars without losing a sense of swing and drama. He also could slow-build an arrangement or set it to simmer—creating the sensation of a large ensemble in the background but never intruding on the album's overall theme or vision.

In Part 1 of my two-part interview with Don, 72, the arranger talks about growing up in New Jersey, playing and recording with Kenton and Ferguson, his favorite singer, and working with Wes Montgomery...

JazzWax: What was growing up in Perth Amboy, N.J., in the ‘40s like?Don Sebesky: Perth Amboy was a nice little town in a Norman Rockwell sort of way. Most residents at the time were of Polish and Hungarian descent.

JW: What did your parents do for a living?DS: My father was a laborer who worked in a steel-cable factory. My mother was a housewife.

JW: Was the trombone your first instrument?DS: Actually, my first instrument was the accordion.

JW: For real?DS: [Laughs]. Yes, and it forced me to learn harmony. Once in a while I’ll still do an overdub on accordion, but it’s a pain to lug around. My favorites in the '50s were Mat Mathews and Art Van Damme. Many people may not be aware that Mat used the button accordion rather than traditional keyboard. There's a difference in the attack.

JW: How did you come to music?DS: Music was the only thing I knew or cared about—from age 10. In high school, I took up the trombone to get into the marching band. Then I began commuting into New York from New Jersey to take trombone lessons from Warren Covington. He was working in the New York recording studios at the time, before he joined Tommy Dorsey's band. Through Warren I was introduced to trombonist Kai Winding. I also started absorbing what trombonists Frank Rosolino and Carl Fontana were laying down.

JW: How did you learn to arrange?DS: I’m self-taught. And I worked very hard [laughs].

JW: Your first recording was Maynard Ferguson’s Message from Newport in 1958. You arranged Humbug and Fan It, Janet. What’s the origin of those two titles?DS: I’m a huge fan of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. I have several copies of the book. I just love the story. So Humbug comes from Scrooge. Maynard named Fan It, Janet. I don’t know who "Janet" was or if it’s a name that was even significant to him.

JW: What was working with Ferguson like?DS: Maynard was a great guy and great leader. You came in with something and the band played it. Maynard was one of the cats. Most people don’t realize that there were only 12 musicians on Message. That’s relatively small considering the big sound. Everyone had to play longer and harder to achieve it.

JW: Did Ferguson ever lose his temper?DS: Not really. The only time I saw him get angry was at a prom someplace. He was playing a ballad and someone who was a little loaded stumbled into him and bashed his horn into his mouth. He almost killed the kid. The band stopped, and he had to control himself. Some security guard came over and took the kid away.

JW: Did the band tour?DS: We did our share of one-nighters, but we didn’t travel far. We’d go up to Buffalo and come right back to New York after the gig. We’d go up with six guys in a car. I was stuck with them. Pot smoke would be swirling around our heads. We’d stop and someone would get out and steal a bottle of cough medicine to get high. The band was swinging, but I could have wound up on a chain gang [laughs].

JW: You recorded on Viva Kenton! in 1959, a magnificent Latin-themed album arranged by Gene Roland.DS: Unfortunately I caught Kenton’s band at the tail end of the Bill Holman era. We traveled a great deal on that band. The book was made up largely of Bill Holman leftovers. Arranger Gene Roland traveled with the band then and wrote new charts. He was a mini genius. His Cool Eyes from 1952 was so great. Gene wrote that chart in jail a year or two earlier—without a piano. He never could quite get a handle on his talent.

JW: You arranged Two's Company with Chris Connor and Maynard Ferguson.DS: I fell in love with Chris's voice listening to her in high school, when she was with Claude Thornhill’s band. I think she sang Fine and Dandy. So much has been written comparing her with June Christy. They’re from the same breathy, cool school. But Chris had a sound that was deeper and more like Lester Young’s horn. Her voice had the quality of a tenor sax. It was a little lower than June’s and had a cooler tone to it, too. Chris was the essence of coolness. I still compare everyone to her.

JW: How did you meet Creed Taylor?DS: One day in 1965, I was writing in my home studio in North Branch, N.J., when the phone rang. Creed was on the other end. He said, “I heard something you did and want you to arrange an album for me.”

JW: Was that Wes Montgomery’s Bumpin’?DS: Yes. On the first day of recording, we went into the studio with Wes, the rhythm section and all the strings. But nothing went well. The session wasn’t happening. Wes, who always smiling, wasn’t smiling.

JW: Why?DS: I went up to him and asked what was going on. He said, “I can’t compete with these cats. They all went to Juilliard.” Wes didn’t read music.

JW: What did you do?DS: I sent everyone home except the rhythm section. I decided to tape them swinging on each track. Then later I recorded the orchestra and overdubbed Wes' tracks. Engineer Rudy [Van Gelder] liked the idea since we had contained Wes' guitar sound by recording this way. There wouldn't be any sonic leakage. Instead of writing complete arrangements, though, I’d write in a loose form so that orchestra would sound natural around Wes' solo playing.

JW: What did this do for you?DS: On later albums, like California Dreaming, Herbie [Hancock] on piano would play a lick, for example, and Wes would react to that. The whole point was to give the rhythm section free reign and to capture the rise and fall of the emotional content with the orchestra. When we would do this and one of the guys in the rhythm section would create something inventive, I had a reference, a catalyst that I could use to bounce off of for the arrangement.

JW: In most other cases, recordings were done the other way around—orchestral tracks recorded first, followed by the soloist, wearing headphones, recording his tracks.DS: I know. The albums I did for Wes sound as though every instrument was scripted. In fact, they were loose enough that I could change the form. We worked them out synergistically. We were kind of helping each other, Wes and the orchestra. The result was a sound that was very natural and breezy.

JW: How did the orchestra hear Wes’ tracks when it recorded later?DS: The entire orchestra was wearing headphones. The way it came off, it’s almost as if these two halves were intertwining. A give and take on two tracks and a third track for solos. They'd always be reacting to each other.

JW: So how would you arrange a track Montgomery recorded?DS: I’d take it home and listen to it. Then I'd write around what he was doing or echo his lines. A Wes arrangement became a dual force. It was both a background and a co-conspirator. The guys in the rhythm section who played on the initial tracks were completely unhampered and had complete freedom to come up with lines. My orchestration would then feed off of those lines. This made the orchestra an active participant in the fabric, like a tapestry.

About

Marc Myers writes regularly for The Wall Street Journal and is author of "Anatomy of a Song" (Grove) and "Why Jazz Happened." Founded in 2007, JazzWax is a two-time winner of the Jazz Journalists Association's best blog award.